Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2019 20:44:52 GMT -5
Flintfang
24 Moons || StoneClan || TomFlintfang carried himself proudly through Stoneclan territory, a hawk in his jaws. The tom was enjoying solitude. It was late afternoon and the sky was growing more vibrant in color, the sunlight strong and warm, though the wind tore away the warmth like an eagle stealing a kit.
The dark tom felt bad being so harsh with Dustclaw the other day when they were talking at supper, but his heart was still shattered, broken from an unexpected betrayal. It had been too soon, and Dustclaw surely understood he didn't really mean what he said. I just need some time. The tom thought, feathers tickling his nose as he walked the bird back to camp. His jaws ached from the weight, but he felt proud. Not only did he manage to find food, but also bedding. The feathers and down from the large hawk would do nice lining some nests.
Slowly he was moving past heartbreak.
Slowly.
Flintfang's paws were horribly cold, and his pelt was quite thin. His oriental frame and coat proved awful in cold weather endurance, his naturally lithe form and thin skin much better suited to the murderous heat of Greenleaf. Could be worse. He mused, stumbling a bit as he misjudged one of his leaps. He huffed, regaining his footing carefully, watching as pebbles crumbled down the rock face in front of him. He hadn't realized how numb his paws were until then, and briefly took shelter in between two larger stones, offering a comfortable windbreak.
The bird was still warm, and its feathers made Flintfang want to curl up and sleep right there.
He worked his paws into the bird's down, huddling up and heating his body before the final push back home.
Home.
That's what he called it, but the longer he stayed, the more out of place he felt: the more he thought that maybe Stoneclan wasn't home. The dark, smoky colored tom lay still, lost in contemplation. He never could leave his brothers alone. They weren't clan-born either, and heavens forbid Stoneclan falls victim to a civil war of its own? Flintfang shivered, eyes glancing over towards the mountains. Adventure-lust sparkled in his gaze, though the longer he looked, the more sad he became.
It isn't my fate. He thought, stuffing his dream in the depths of his mind.
He had to protect his brothers. They were the closest thing they will ever have to real family, and without each other, they were all lost. Flintfang sighed and closed his eyes, burying his face in the hawk's chest, heat fading from the body. For a brief moment, he felt like a kit buried in the dip of his mothers belly, though the pains of reality ripped him to his paws.
They had no family.
They only had each other.
Flintfang grabbed the hawk in his jaws and headed back out into the wind. Through a haze of dark brown feathers, his eyes noticed movement ahead. A clanmate maybe? Or had his eyes picked up on something that wasn't even there?
Sleep hadn't come quite easy lately.
The dark tom felt bad being so harsh with Dustclaw the other day when they were talking at supper, but his heart was still shattered, broken from an unexpected betrayal. It had been too soon, and Dustclaw surely understood he didn't really mean what he said. I just need some time. The tom thought, feathers tickling his nose as he walked the bird back to camp. His jaws ached from the weight, but he felt proud. Not only did he manage to find food, but also bedding. The feathers and down from the large hawk would do nice lining some nests.
Slowly he was moving past heartbreak.
Slowly.
Flintfang's paws were horribly cold, and his pelt was quite thin. His oriental frame and coat proved awful in cold weather endurance, his naturally lithe form and thin skin much better suited to the murderous heat of Greenleaf. Could be worse. He mused, stumbling a bit as he misjudged one of his leaps. He huffed, regaining his footing carefully, watching as pebbles crumbled down the rock face in front of him. He hadn't realized how numb his paws were until then, and briefly took shelter in between two larger stones, offering a comfortable windbreak.
The bird was still warm, and its feathers made Flintfang want to curl up and sleep right there.
He worked his paws into the bird's down, huddling up and heating his body before the final push back home.
Home.
That's what he called it, but the longer he stayed, the more out of place he felt: the more he thought that maybe Stoneclan wasn't home. The dark, smoky colored tom lay still, lost in contemplation. He never could leave his brothers alone. They weren't clan-born either, and heavens forbid Stoneclan falls victim to a civil war of its own? Flintfang shivered, eyes glancing over towards the mountains. Adventure-lust sparkled in his gaze, though the longer he looked, the more sad he became.
It isn't my fate. He thought, stuffing his dream in the depths of his mind.
He had to protect his brothers. They were the closest thing they will ever have to real family, and without each other, they were all lost. Flintfang sighed and closed his eyes, burying his face in the hawk's chest, heat fading from the body. For a brief moment, he felt like a kit buried in the dip of his mothers belly, though the pains of reality ripped him to his paws.
They had no family.
They only had each other.
Flintfang grabbed the hawk in his jaws and headed back out into the wind. Through a haze of dark brown feathers, his eyes noticed movement ahead. A clanmate maybe? Or had his eyes picked up on something that wasn't even there?
Sleep hadn't come quite easy lately.
Do not dwell in the past.
Do not dream of the future.
Made By Fawn
@@ ## Notes